The Last Word

What do you call itwhen another forces your handand what will they saywhen they find me here this wayand know, no no no it wasn't my ideano it wasn't my ideabut oh,just to see your facewhen you find me here like thisnow there's no time for wonderingdarkness is now at my doorrapping with bony fingershe's come to take me homehe'll envelope me in sleepwrapped in black feathery wings

but before we fly, here's my goodbye

I get the last wordi get the last laughas sure as the room is growing coldI'll have the last wordI'll have the last laughas sure as my blood is running cold

they won't call it suicidebecause i've got the killer's nameengraved so deeply in my veinsthey will call it homocidebecause i've got your nameso clearly carved into my wristthe weak and the lame will find their wayto escape but why should ileave all this beauty behindand forfeit the joy in my lifein the name of an enemy

I'll have the last wordI'll have the last laughas sure as the room is growing coldI'll have the last wordI'll have the last laughas sure as your blood is running cold

far be it for I to leave all this beauty behindi will stay to watch you wither awayand with any luck you may be hit by a truckand i will remain to dance upon your graveoh, look, can't you see how much your death means to meplease won't you play in a busy street

Far be it for I to leave all this beauty behindI will remain to dance upon your grave